Falling
by Plastic Roses
Summary: /HitsuSaku/ Sakura mourns a dead boy she might have loved, long ago.


A/N: I have not read Bleach in a while, I apologize for any inaccuracies. Enjoy!

Falling

Her fingers trace slowly over the kanji carved into the harsh, cold stone. _Hitsugaya Toshiro,_ the grave reads. Her eyes are empty as she stares at it. Sakura closes her eyes and remembers him. She remembers the too-white hair, the pale skin, the beautiful blue eyes. She remembers the scowling, the awkward, hesitant smiles, the way he always protected her from anything that could be even remotely harmful, from cracks in the sidewalk to mean girls to angry parents.

She remembers the one awkward, shy kiss they shared before he left on his first C-rank mission; the kiss she, at eight years old, had been too young to really understand. She remembers going to the gates to greet him the day he was due back. She remembers waiting for hours, then days, then weeks. She remembers refusing to leave until he came back.

She remembers a single member of his team returning, three weeks after they were supposed to be home. She remembers the shinobi telling her in a hollow voice that everyone on his team had been killed. She remembers hearing that their sensei had died first, trying to protect them, that their kunoichi had jumped in front of a kunai for him.

She remembers that Toshiro had almost made it.

Unknown to her, a single tear trickles down her face. It is soon joined by one, two, five more. Tears continue to spill as she stares at the name. It wasn't until one dropped on the gravestone that Sakura realizes she is crying.

She reaches up and wipes them off her cheek. More continue to spill, and she continues to wipe her face, until a small sob manages to escape and she breaks down in front of the empty grave.

* * *

Toshiro slips out that day. He doesn't know why, but he just feels like he has to. He has been feeling on edge all week; whenever anyone tries to talk to him, he snaps and glares until they leave.

He wanders until he reaches the Forbidden Barrier, the one that leads to a section of the human world that no shinigami, regardless of status, may pass through. Almost unconsciously, he reaches out and touches the door.

Without warning, he is violently jerked towards it. He closes his eyes, ready to slam into the door, but nothing happens except a whoosh of air. He opens his eyes again, only to find he is in a small park in a place he has never seen. The children playing there do not see him, but some of the adults look up to where he is, as if expecting a person. When they do not see anything, they look back down, frowning.

Despite the nagging voice in his head telling him he should go back, he walks through the park. He does not find anything, but he did not expect to. There is something about the place that feels both right and wrong, as if he had been there many times, but the place held no fond memories.

He closes his eyes, and, instead of banishing the feeling, focuses on it. As if by magic, a memory comes to him, of tears and bruises and pink hair and needless apologies. He tries to recall more, but, just as easily as the memory came, the feelings slip away and he is left in the dark. One thing was for sure; he should not be here.

He leaves the park, making sure to give the door a wide berth. As he passes by the benches, the same adults, the ones with the odd silver headbands, look up. He rolls his eyes at his paranoia and assures himself it is just a coincidence. All the same, he hurries out of the park.

He is confronted with wide, busy streets. As he stares at the buildings across from him, he is confronted by a feeling of déjà vu. He slowly starts walking down the street, his feet leading the way.

Despite the feelings that some of the people in this village can see him, he walks as slowly as he wants to. All around him are things that look familiar- things that should not. In all his years, he has never been in a place like this.

The farther he travels, the less buildings there are, and the less people he encounters. The people he does encounter, however, all seem to know he is there. It is strange, this feeling that humans- living humans- can see him- or at the very least, are aware of his presence in their world. He does not allow it to faze him, and continues walking.

When his feet finally stop, he looks around and realizes he is in a cemetery. Despite the feeling of foreboding in his stomach, he looks around, as if searching for familiar names. Many of the names are unfamiliar, but the ones he does recognize give him a jolt: Matsumoto Rangiku, Hinamori Momo, Ichimaru Gin.

He stops looking at the names. As he recovers from the sight of his comrades' gravestones, he realizes that there is a muffled crying sound nearby. He follows it until he reaches a pink-haired girl, looking to be about twelve or thirteen, sobbing in front of a grave.

He ignores the growing sense of dread and reads the name on the stone.

It is his own.

With a jolt, Toshiro realizes everything. He knows now why the door is forbidden. He knows why no one from the human world -_no,_ he thinks,_ that is not the human world. _This_ is the human world-_ has ever become a shinigami. He knows why none of the shinigami ever remember their human lives, though many of the other souls do.

He swallows, suddenly painfully aware of everything around him: the girl's sobs, the slight breeze ruffling his hair, the blank face of the woman three rows down, the way the handle of his sword was just a little bit colder than normal, the faint smell of strawberries in the distance.

He realizes as he stares at the grave -_his_ grave- that this sobbing girl must have known him in his human life. He stares at her, taking in her appearance. Her short pink hair is tied back with a blue ribbon, proudly bearing an insignia of a stylized leaf. Her dress is a bright red, with a white circle displayed on her back. Toshiro cannot see her face, however, because she is covering her face with her hands in an attempt to muffle her sobs.

He stares at her a while longer, taking in every detail of her appearance: her blue sandals, her green painted fingernails, a small scar on her upper left arm. There is something strangely beautiful about her, he thinks. He ignores the thought as soon as it occurs; she is alive, and he is dead. It does not matter.

He finishes memorizing his appearance before turning and leaving the graveyard. He has memorized the path to the park, and arrives there easily. Most of the children had left before he arrived – it is almost sunset, after all- making it easy for him to access the door and return to the Soul Society.

Toshiro leaves. He does not turn back.


End file.
